Take the Current When It Serves
by Angel Gidget
Summary: An AU in which Jem and Tessa are afforded a bit more opportunity at the start of their lives together, and Will must manage as best he can when those dearest to him have but one life to live.
1. Chapter 1

**Title**: Take the Current When It Serves

**Fandom**: The Infernal Devices

**Rating**: R or M for sexuality

**Disclaimer**: Not mine.

**Summary**: An AU in which Jem and Tessa are afforded a bit more opportunity at the start of their lives together, and Will must manage as best he can when those dearest to him have but one life to live.

**A/N 1**: This chapter opens with a sex ed lecture by Henry. This entire crazed scenario is from Majesta Moniet's story, The Cylinders & The Ratchets.

* * *

"Now, of course, you know the purpose of all this is generally procreation, but in the event that some gents aren't ready, they often "pull out early," that is, before ejaculation..."

Henry continued.

Will yawned.

Jem fidgeted.

Though Henry had been a hesitant instructor at first, Charlotte had insisted, and it was why they were now being educated in the various workings of sexual intercorse that "every nephilim gentleman must know."

Will had teased mercilessly at first, but the more Henry began to liken human organs to mechanical parts, the more dauntless he became, the more Jem's parabatai grew disinterested and distracted.

If Jem wasn't mistaken, Will was even holding a small novel beneath the table, reading it furtively, if half-heartedly.

Jem lifted his hand, warming his undercirculated fingertips on his blushing cheek. It wasn't the flush of fever this time, simply pure embarassment.

Would Tessa really expect him to know all this?

And what if not all of it was relevant?

He knew the "pulling out" part most likely wasn't. While Tessa worried about what she was, the general consensus was that she was a sort of warlock, and could not bear children. But what if there were other benefits other than what Henry said? What made things better? What made things worse?

According to Henry, very little could make the first time better.

Jem sighed.

He'd had... fantasies of the two of them locked in an embrace... not unlike the one they'd shared on his bed. He'd dreamed of the joy and discovery on her face, the noises she had made then, only louder and more drawn out-and he'd hoped to make the dream real on their wedding night. Even fortified his resolve to be a gentleman about their engagement with promises to himself of "later."

But that was before Henry introduced him to the concept of hymenal tissue.

And the menstrual cycle.

"Though women can be thankfully mindful of such things," Henry had assured, "And even go so far as to plan matrimony accordingly."

It was a startling thought to Jem. That Tessa might choose a day for them to marry not based on the convenience of a guest list or pleasant weather, but whether she was bleeding from a most private area or not.

Will had already known about this, apparently, and had been most smug about it.

"Never gonna look at a stain on a skirt the same way again, are you, James?'

Jem breathed out, "Not that it is my business to be staring at their skirts in the first place. The polite thing is to look them in the eye."

Will laughed. It was one of his practiced boast-laughs, the sort that came before a comment meant to further his sordid reputation. Now a matter more of habit than necessity.

"I assure you that when a woman whips her skirts off, and has misplaced her chemise entirely, she will be most put out if you stare at nothing but her face. Especially when her breasts are so considerate as to swell to twice their normal size when you look at them."

"Not the whole breast," Jem corrected knowledgeably.

Will paused as Jem's brain caught up with him. Jem stared directly at the floor, as if his shoes held the secrets of the clave.

"..." Will had opened his mouth to say something, but words would not come.

_Bundun_, Jem thought. He hadn't meant to-

But it was true. In his mind's eye, he could still see Tessa looking up at him with her soft grey eyes, her hair tussled across his pillow. He could see her breathing heavily, gasping for more than air. And he could see the tips of her breasts, tightened beneath her chemise. The pendant around his neck had grazed her there, ever so slightly and only for a moment, but her eyes had closed, and she had hissed as her leg braced tighter at his hip. Jem was certain down to his soul that she would have told him if it was from pain.

"Jem is correct," Henry blathered on, "But while puckering of the female nipple is often a complimentary sign of female readiness, it doesn't replace the importance of actually checking for sufficient lubrication before insertion. Now where did I put that oil can?"

Will dropped all pretence and burried his nose in his book, hiding his expression entirely.

Henry did not notice.

Henry still did not notice when Jem began to flinch at the rune-related part of the presentation.

"Now while there are very few runes that pertain to the sexual act directly, there are many that offer indirect benefits..."

Stamina rune, Jem thought. That much was obvious. It was part of his regular regimen anyway. Sometimes it was how he even got through the day, when he was feeling particularly stubborn about his yin fen ration.

But there were also runes for sensitivity. And there were things one could do to the marriage rune... would he get one? Would Tessa want him to? The only way to know was to ask, but it seemed unfair somehow. And how strange to put a sensitivity rune on himself, when he would not be able to do so for his wife?

He would ask her. In private. When they were alone.

Though if he were to be honest with himself, the last few instances he'd finally been alone with Tessa, he hadn't exactly opted to talk...

Jem sighed.

He was blessed to have a parabatai who reveled in a horrid reputation.

It made others fail to notice when he was in danger of damaging his own.

* * *

**A/N 2**: O. M. G. chapter fic. How do I even FIND myself writing chapter fic? Please do bear with me, as I have not attempted such a venture in approximately ten years. With that in mind, please do r&r, seeing as it is a wonderful ego trip and motivational tool. I don't do ultimatums, and I never do threats. It would just be nice. Thanks.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N : ***sigh* Mixed feelings about this chapter. Feel free to assume that Charlotte gave Tessa her own slightly-less-awkward lecture. Enjoy and have at it, guys.

* * *

For Tessa, the worst dreams were the ones in which she could not scream.

She would see Nate, bloody and pale, out of the corner of her eye, and he would command the automaton front and center to choke the life out of her. She would know in the back of her dream-hazed mind that Jem, and Will, and even Charlotte were not far, that if she could just utter something they would hear... but her mouth would open and only spill out silence. And there would be a gurgling and a cracking in her ears, that ugly repulsive feeling would dig deeper and deeper into her before she would finally awake.

And she would wake to her dark room-cold, empty, and alone.

"A significant improvement is a significant improvement," Tessa muttered to herself. Her sore throat surprised her with its croak, but it only served to make her sound all the more like her Aunt Harriet, which just seemed to make it all the more appropriate.

It was then that she felt a cold knot at the top of her spine, the unshakable feeling that she was being watched.

"Psst," Tessa hissed toward the shadows. She could sometimes call Jem's cat to her that way. At least, she hoped it was Church in that shadowy corner.

But there was no answering meow, nor padding of small clawed feet.

Only a ticking, a ticking far too lumbering to be her angel.

Tessa scrambled out of bed and stood. She tried to reach behind her for anything, anything that could possibly be a weapon. She spread her feet to the width of her shoulders-just as Gabriel had taught her-as her fingers closed around the small hand-mirror on her nightstand.

The cold feel of the handle reminded her that this was not a dream, that her actions were her own, and Tessa screamed. She inwardly cursed her dry throat for the strangled softness of it.

The automaton burst into view. It was... tiny. Like the mechanical bugs that had disrupted the clave meeting. She recalled that Henry has marveled at their apertures, as if they were a sort of camera. At once, Tessa felt a movement at her chest, her angel coming to life. Fearing for her neck, she unhooked the chain and let it fly.

It batted and scraped at the automaton, driving it through her cracked-open window.

A moment later, her angel fluttered back through, and went quiet on the sill.

Tessa latched the window closed, and breathed out, struggling to be calm.

"Tessa!" Jem burst through the door, sword-cane in hand.

He was dressed in a loose sleep-wrinkled shirt and trousers, feet in slippers, and despite all that had occurred, it made her smile.

"There... was a clockwork spying device, but it's gone now. It wasn't... I don't think it was meant to put up a fight."

Jem looked out her window, and then toward the corners of her room.

"I think it might be best if I check... if you wouldn't mind?"

Tessa shook her head, and reached for the stubby candle near her bed. She grabbed a match from the drawer and lit it, handing it to him. Jem blinked in surprise.

"Charlotte would gladly give you a witchlight to use if you but ask."

"It's not that. The candlelight is just better for reading."

Jem smiled, letting some of the moment's tension seep from his shoulders. Nonetheless, he gripped his sword tightly as he walked to each end of her room.

Tessa bit her lip. They would need to tell the others. And they would need to speculate how it got through the Institute's defenses, and what intelligence it might have gathered, and how Mortmain was likely to use it. They would need to do all that, and yet...

Her room was so bare. Tessa felt silly even thinking about it, but it was true. All the furniture was Institute standard. The dresses were Jessamine's. The books all from the library. She had been in London for months, and yet there was so little of her to be found in the place where she slept. So unlike Jem's room with its strangely combined scent of sweet and cedar, the ornate box on the nightstand, his chest at the foot of the bed, and the violin in the corner.

Yet, she looked up to find that Jem was smiling at her.

"I see no further automatons, only several books in neat and tidy stacks."

"I'd hardly call that neat."

"Oh, but I do. I've introduced you to Will's room, remember? For all he claims that his beloved novels are his friends, I don't believe I've seen him treat them so well as you have."

Tessa picked up her latest reading material off the top; it was a children's book, "Through the Looking Glass." Tessa had often thought such books were silly, but Will had made her think to give "silly" books another try as of late. Vathek had surprised her. A part of Tessa wanted to be surprised again.

"A book that's beloved-really beloved-will inevitably become frayed and worn. The care I take comes from the desire to keep them in one piece for as long as possible... and then there's the fact that the books aren't really mine. I think maybe I would take more liberties with something that was mine."

Jem blushed and looked away. Tessa paused.

"That... didn't come out as I-"

"I really don't mind. Er, that is-"

They both fell into chuckles, red streaking over both their faces.

She'd wanted this. She'd wanted to see him smiling and happy. It made Tessa feel strangely powerful that she could do it, make him burst with joy in such a way. No one else could. Not even Will.

Even as the laughter settled, he relaxed, sitting down on the edge of her bed.

It was such a casually intimate thing, to sit on someone's bed as though it were any other piece of furniture. That Jem did it so comfortably, so unthinkingly, pleased Tessa more than she could even explain to herself. He looked up at her through silvery bangs that fell messily over his eyes, yet hid nothing.

Tessa inhaled, "The automaton's bound to disappoint its master. I've said nothing useful for it in this room. If it had a mind, I suspect it would be bored right out of it, having nothing to do but watch me read."

Jem nodded, "Nonetheless, we'll tell Charlotte and the others."

"At breakfast?" Tessa asked.

Jem bit is lip, "We should do it now."

Tessa nodded grimly, "You're right."

And yet, neither moved.

Not until Tessa stepped closer.

It was not a wise impulse, but what impulse was? She ran her fingers though that light gray silk, smoothing the hair out of his eyes, but letting her hand linger, falling to the nape of his neck.

Jem looked away for but a moment, flicking what seemed to be a scale on the jade dragon's head. The blade slid back into its sheath with a slight metallic noise, and he let the weapon lean against the post at the foot of the bed.

When he looked back, his eyes were wide, watching for any hint of reluctance.

She met his gaze, making sure he found none.

Tessa stepped closer, aware that she now had his legs on either side of her.

The bed was high, and though he looked up at her, his eyes were truly level with the spot where her angel usually rested, right below his mother's jade pendant. She felt his arms wrap around her waist, slowly and tentatively.

Her nightgown was a very old one, belonging not to Jessamine, but to Sophie. As such, the collar was more threadbare with buttons missing, and at once, Tessa became terribly aware of all the skin that open collar left available.

Her hand at his neck seemed to move of its own accord, and with his eyes still looking up at her, he was kissing her, kissing the bare skin over her breast as if it were her hand. Softly. With warm breath lingering over the place where his lips paused.

Tessa gasped. Her grip tightened in his hair, and with that unspoken permission, Jem's eyes closed, and he kissed her there again. Swifter. Harder, as his arms around her tightened in reciprocation.

"Jem." It had always struck her about him... the way he took an interest in the whole world around him. The peaceful expression on his face as he looked over Blackfriar's bridge, the affection when he looked at Will, the respect and concern as he looked at Charlotte and Henry... it all had something calm to it, a sort of serenity that had caused her to think of him as someone steady. Someone who could not be truly perturbed by anything on this earth.

And then there was the way he looked at her when they were like this, with nothing calm about it at all. Rather, an intense longing and an immediacy she felt reflected in herself.

She wanted to feel his heartbeat. Now. Now, as it moved from steady to rapid beneath her hand, as it had moved beneath her cheek when they were tangled together in his bed.

She tugged at his silky hair again, pulling him back.

He caught his breath, and pulled back his hands, as if to stop, unsure of what she wanted.

She kissed him to reassure him, lips to lips and slightly parted, tasting the bitterness of strong tea and the sweetness of the drug that never fully left him. And as she did, she reached up and felt his shoulders relax beneath her hands, even as she pushed him down onto the coverlets.

He obliged, pulling himself higher onto the bed, making room for her. And as she tugged at his sleeping shirt, he obliged again, pulling it over his head, and tossing it aside to the same shadowy corner he'd inspected moments before.

"Tessa," He breathed it against her mouth as he cradled her face between his hands. Her own hands slid over the dip of his collarbone, briefly sensing the cool jade of his pendant, the charm Will had given him when they were children. She allowed her hand to linger over it for a moment-just a moment-before sliding an inch further and finally feeling it: the mad flutter beneath his skin, a pounding that increased with each caress.

She wasn't sure if it would feel the same, but she caught his eyes like he had hers, and in doing so, kissed him. Just beneath the faded scaring of a precision rune across his chest. Slowly, and lingering. She watched the silver ring of his eyes grow thin as his pupils dilated, until the moment his eyes closed and his head tilted back with a moan.

"Tessa, I-I want to...zuò aì, but..."

"I know," Tessa hid her face against his Marked chest. "We want to do this properly."

His hands were gentle, soothing through her hair, not unlike the way her own fingers absentmindedly stroked the bicep of his arm.

In contrast, she could feel a firm nudge against her stomach, and his legs on either side of her sprawled form, trying not to shift, trying not to rub...

It was different, knowing what that meant. Because it was the sort of knowing that lead to more questions, and he was correct. They had already decided when they would be asking those questions, and it was not the night.

Even though it was dark and quiet, with a crescent moon at the window and the tiny glow of her ever-shortening candle. Even though the room was cool, and his body stretched beneath her kept her warm.

She smiled, "Just one more kiss?"

His eyes curved with his lips into a bright smile as he dragged her upwards, letting their arms wrap around each other. He rolled, leaning over her and Tessa closed her eyes in anticipation, relishing the panting breath against her mouth, fighting for calm and leaning closer.

CLANG CLANG CLANG!

They both jerked upwards from the bed with a start.

"Henry's alarm," Jem gasped, "It's finally gone off."

As reliable as ever, Tessa thought with a sigh.

Jem's grip on her arm tightened. "It was meant to detect automatons meant to hurt you on the premesis. If it's gone off, they'll be heading straight here to your ro-"

He didn't need to finish. Tessa could already hear pounding boots coming down the corridor, rushing at a speed her ironically more human-like legs couldn't match.

Tessa froze.

The steps were practically outside her door. And Jem was-

Jem was standing, but clearly ruffled from more than sleep. And looking about for a shirt he had no time to find.

She didn't think. She just looked at him, slightly bent at the waist in front of her tall wardrobe, opened the door of it further, and shoved him inside.

"Tes-?"

She closed it with a click.

As was typical of her luck, Will was the first to barge through the door.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Thanks for all the support, guys.

"Tessa!" Will burst through her door at the head of the group. He was dressed for his nightly stroll, but held a pair of knives at the ready. Gideon Lightwood stood right behind him with sword drawn, with Sophie of all people beside him. Charlotte hung back a bit with Henry in the hallway.

"It's over!" Tessa called out so those at the back could hear her. "It was a small device, and I have already fended it off."

"Like the camera creatures?" Henry asked.

Tessa nodded.

Charlotte sighed, and lowered her throwing stars in favor of wrapping her arms about her slightly distended stomach, as was her new habit.

"Curious," Henry murmured. "It must have made a stealthy entrance, but afforded less caution when you threw it out, thus tripping the system. Don't fret, dear girl. I'll improve upon it, so the alarm will catch the device the first time."

Tessa nodded, "Thank you, Henry."

She struggled not to look Will in the eye. He was staring at her. Tessa prayed that he stared only at her, and not all the details of her state. Her flushed cheeks. Her mussed hair... or Jem's cane at the foot of the bed.

Tessa nearly gasped before quickly averting her eyes. She stepped carefully towards the bed, to hide the evidence, pulling her robe on in some belated nod to modesty.

She tried not to flinch as Will followed her movements with concern on his face, stepping right in front of the wardrobe.

"Well, if everyone is quite alright, we should all retire back to bed," Charlotte yawned. Sophie and Gideon left quickly, with Henry and Charlotte behind them.

Tessa felt her cheeks flush even redder as Will lingered behind, staring at her.

There were a thousand questions in his gaze, and the biggest one was whether he should ask anything at all.

And at any other time, in any other place, Tessa would have been open to him, willing to talk if not to tell him things he wanted to hear.

But she could almost hear-or was she imagining it?-the tiny shuffling sounds coming from behind the oak doors, and wondered alarmingly if Will's shadowhunter ears could hear it all the better.

"Tess. I-"

"What did you like about it?"

Will frowned in confusion.

"That is, what did you like about Lewis Carroll's work? I just... I never wanted to read it because I thought it was silly. But if I'm to read it on your recommendation, I'd like to know what I'm looking for. Or is it a silly book after all? And you've only claimed it as a favorite to make me trudge through it?"

She felt her spirits lift as she saw the shadow of Will's perpetual discomfort give way to a fire she had missed: his literary passion.

"I did no such thing! And your first mistake is to confuse silliness with unworthiness. It's not as if Shakespeare's been dismissed out of hand for writing about fairies that turn men into asses."

Tessa chuckled, but still found a point to argue.

"Yet you must admit that in Shakespeare's case, there was hidden meaning in it."

"But of course! And you suppose the looking glass world has no hidden meaning in it? Or have you never felt that the world was madness and you were the only sane one in it?"

Tessa paused. As with so many of Will's protests, there was a sense of truth wrapped in a wisecrack enfolded within a private anecdote. She had felt that way a bit when Nate had betrayed her. And she wondered not for the first time how warped the world must feel to Will, hiding misplaced affections and living within a reputation that did not reflect his kind heart. But on the subject of gentle souls... she had one hidden in her oak wardrobe, and he had to be finding the experience quite suffocating.

"Somehow, Will, if the world were to go mad tomorrow, and there were but one sane person left, I do not think that individual would be you..." moving forward, she took him by the arm as though to drag him to her door.

Will startled at the contact, but not enough to be distracted from protest, "Oh ye of little faith."

"Now if you will excuse me from further nonsense, I am exhausted. Goodnight."

Not for the first time, Tessa felt the yank of guilt on her heartstrings as she began to shove a befuddled Welshman out of her room, but Will braced himself at the exit.

"You're not coughing."

"What?"

"I distinctly heard a cough, and it clearly didn't come from you."

Tessa paused. Lightly, but growing louder, a string of muffled coughs reached her ears.

"Jem."

All secrecy cast aside, Tessa launched herself at the wardrobe, tearing it open.

Jem was crouched in the corner, pressed against one of Jessamine's old dresses, struggling for breath against his sleeve.

Tessa felt her own hands brush against Will's as they reached for him in unison, dragging him out, and laying him on the floor.

"I... It will pass. I just-" Jem's own words proved false, as his throat constricted again.

Will's voice was deadly serious, "Watch him. I know where he keeps his-"

"I have some."

Both boys' eyes opened wide as they looked over at Tessa.

True to her word, she picked out a small envelope from a drawer, and knelt next to them again.

She took Jem's hand in hers.

He was shaking, and thinking better of it, she grabbed his chin and tilted his head back, pouring the powder directly onto his tongue. Will's arm went about Jem, supporting him.

Jem's eyes shut tight as his jaw clamped shut, focused on containing his urge to cough again, and swallowing the drug instead. The sound of his breathing dominated the room, drowning out her ticking angel.

They breathed with him.

Will looked at her with Jem stretched between them. He looked first at the envelope, then at the wardrobe, and finally, towards Tessa, but downward. It took her a moment to realize he was staring at her neck, and for a moment, Tessa wondered if something was the matter with her pendant, but it then occurred to her that some... spots on her neck were a little redder than others.

She felt her cheeks begin to heat, and realized that in the evening's light, Will's own face seemed to grow a soul-defining shade of mauve.

They both started a bit when Jem spoke.

"Please tell me you didn't scoop that off the floor of my room the night we-"

His eyes flicked to Will, as he cut his own words off.

Tessa straightened, "And if I did? I think it proved rather beneficiary. It can never hurt to have an extra stash hidden away if you need it."

Jem closed his eyes once more, "I didn't want you to touch the stuff."

Will interrupted, "So, James, do you come as standard furnishing now? One bed, one nightstand, two witch-lights, and one Jem in the cupboard?"

Jem finally offered up a smile, "I'm standard replacement for missing witch-light. Can't you tell by my heavenly glow?"

The three of them did their best to keep the mood light as Tessa and Will helped ease Jem's weight on either side en route to his room.

As Tessa finally shut his door, she saw Will sagging against the hallway wall with a sigh on his lips.

"You're practically married."

Tessa bristled, but then paused. Will sounded so... far away as he said it. And she soon realized that his tone did not convey the judgement she had anticipated.

It was then that she saw his jaw clench, so tight she thought she would hear his teeth crack. He jerked away from the wall, towards the path to his own room.

"Wait here."

Tessa obeyed. The silence and the darkness seemed to stretch out into distorted miles, and she stood so long in one place, she began to grow dizzy as the world appeared to move around her.

When Will came back, he kept his head bowed, letting the shadows hide his countenance.

He took her hand, but their skin was of such similar temperature, it only added to the surreal nature of the moment. Tessa blinked when she realized that as silently as he had come, Will was gone, and he had dropped a small envelope, much like the one in her room, into her hand.

She could feel the weight of silver dust inside.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N :** *sad puppy eyes* I'm so sorry about last week you guys! I'm still getting the hang of writing on a sort of schedule, but I feel like I've got a bit of my groove back. While there's not so much steaminess this chapter, there's still lots of lovely Jem POV. Happy Labor Day to all who are celebrating it.

* * *

Jem awoke with the morning's light.

He lay unmoving for a moment, as was his habit, gathering strength. Just as some needed to stretch, or others needed to blink, Jem needed to decide if he would need a pinch of the drug in order to rouse himself from bed, if he would forego it and hang breakfast, or-most rarely-if he had enough energy in his own right to pull himself from the coverlets and begin the day without yin fen.

It was only since Tessa had become part of his life that the third possibility had happened with any regularity. The knowledge that she would be down at breakfast-no matter if her mood were solemn, thoughtful, conversational or teasing-would pull the exhausted mire off his bones, and send him on his way to the dining room.

It had been different before. Before, his frustrated pull between rest from the drug and rest from his addiction to it could easily induce him to remain in his room for half the day. Of course, he would hate the way Sophie bit her lip and furrowed her brow every time she brought a tray. He'd hate the way Thomas would check on him, nervously tugging at the sleeve of his shirt as he did so. He'd hate the way Jessamine muttered "lazy foreigner" under her breath, and sometimes aloud. Buy most of all, he had hated the way his own reflection stared at him accusingly from the polished surface of his father's violin.

Though it had not been a routine bit of behavior, Jem did not want to be that boy again. His birthday was coming soon, his Clave commission was nearly at hand, and there was a half-formed wedding guest list on his writing desk. It was long past time to live fully, and though Jem had always tried to live as such, it was more urgent now. He had to be a man now, for soon he and Tessa would be man and wife.

Wife. He turned the word over in his head, back and fourth and in six languages. They would be husband and wife in two month's time.

In one fell bound, Jem leapt from the bed to his writing desk. He quickly groped for a pen, focusing his mind on the notes that had had come to him in that instant. It was a steady but uplifting progression; it would need to be played with a careful mixture of patience and passion, not unlike the engagement which inspired it.

Although he knew that what he wrote would be completely confined to his violin, Jem occasionally heard accompaniment in his mind as he composed. A strain of piano there, a bit of trumpet yonder, but as he scratched notes into blotchy paper, he did not think of what background instrument helped drive his hand. It was only after he hit the chorus for the second time that he froze, realizing the music his mind was making.

The qin.

The strings in the background of his mind's eye belonged to his mother's qin.

The sound of a bell took him away from the realization. It was the same one Charlotte rang when urgent shadowhunter business was at hand, and she did not want to take the time to search for everyone in the institute. It was what Agatha had once called "The Minor Fracas Alarm."

* * *

"Fairies?"

Charlotte sighed, "I know you were both hoping for a lead on Mortmain again, but we have other duties too. Since a public ruckus is skirting the line of the accords, it's still the duty of the local Institute to investigate and keep the peace."

"Balderdash," Will interjected with a yawn, "Sending shadowhunters into a predominantly downworlder environs never actually ends with keeping any sort of peace."

Charlotte's temper cut short, "You will do this because the Clave wants it, and I want the Clave off my back-at least for one week. I need it. My swollen feet need it, and you will do it."

Jem couldn't help but notice the way she wagged a finger in front of Will's face, and the way Will's eyes followed it, like a cat keeping track of a bit of string. It was only the minute second that dragged between her movement and his line of sight that gave away the fact that the alarm had probably woken him mid-nap.

"Besides, I've already done you a favor. I've purposefully neglected to tell Cecily what the bell means. Don't think I couldn't benefit from changing my mind."

Will's eyes widened. Jem winced in sympathy. Cecily was taking to the shadowhunter training with incredible alacrity. She had already begun asking when she would be included in missions, and though Will always had an excuse at hand, they grew flimsier each time.

Since her pregnancy prevented her from entering the field, Charlotte was more than grateful for Gideon Lightwood's help, but it was hard to resist adding one more nephilim, especially when that nephilim was so eager, and Will's protests were beginning to border on childish.

"Will is not under quite the strain he was before," Jem noted, "Our chances of calming a conflict rather than exacerbating it are much improved."

Jem watched as Charlotte drew a deep breath, thinking it over. Will's eyes went comically wide with his mouth shut tight. It was a peculiar look for him. He was clearly trying to look innocent and obedient, but the effect was so terribly unnatural and un-Will that it mostly looked like he was attempting to contain a nasty case of the hiccups.

Charlotte sighed with her teeth grit in an impatient sort of resignation.

"Fine. Excellent. GO!"

* * *

"Well, it may have been a bit anti-climactic, boys, but at least we can go home."

_Anti-climatic for Henry_, thought Jem. It had been quite a lot of work for Will and Gideon and Jem himself, detaining scampering pixies and strong-arming the more human-seeming fae without technically arresting them. But any occasion in which Henry's latest invention neither worked nor exploded but simply fizzled and failed to work was "anti-climactic" for Henry.

"Part and parcel of it being that time of year again, eh James?"

The fairies kept a rather different calendar from the mundanes, and even from the nephilim. As a people who's magic was tightly interwoven with the deals they made, the fae were often the most stringent in following the accords. But they were also the masters of loopholes, and as such, when they came upon the high points of the season that demanded they follow their natures into mischief, they found ways to obey.

There had been a small band of them, mostly infecting other downworlders in the tavern with punches and powders leading into a series of bar-fights, all unprovable and highly individual, more along the lines of "deliberate and delinquent rule-breaking" rather than "criminal accords-breaking." Normally, it would not be the business of shadowhunters, but they had been moving in a pattern across London, and could no longer be ignored.

As Jem looked about, he could see that even some shadowhunters in the place had lost their heads to some faerie drug. He frowned. Jem had always seen the downworlders and mundanes as people rather than "not shadowhunter," but he always found himself more wary around the Fae. Their love of altered states-or more precisely, inducing it in others-repulsed him.

"Well, it is their own 'time of the month', you see."

Henry smiled in reference to his lecture a day ago. Jem and Will winced. Henry took it into his head to make jokes every once in a while. Charlotte usually knew better than to let him.

Gideon stared blankly at the three of them, thankfully ignorant of the topic. Jem subtly shook his head. It was better he not know. Henry shrugged and headed for the cage.

Jem eyed the iron cage where the pixies lingered. It was against the rules to keep them there once it had been established that they broke no law, but until Henry checked over every man in the tavern and confirmed that none of their plights were permanent, the scamps remained behind bars. Will broke the silence.

"Of course they want you to think it's a matter of ritual havoc. A perfectly fae sort of reason. Ostensibly."

Gideon raised a brow.

"And what, pray tell, might the real reason be?"

Jem let out a breath. There had been a time when Gideon's question might have been more out of plans to goad in spite, but he was no longer that boy. A different sort of man had come back from Spain, and the question seemed to be out of a genuine if self-deprecating desire for the answer.

"They've reached the breaking point at which they can no longer bear to do without the sight of my incomparable face."

Gideon rolled his eyes as Jem smirked. Some things would ever remain the same.

"One of the pixies is loose!" Henry cried.

Jem saw a green flicker out of the corner of his eye.

"Jem, watch ou-"

Will's warning came too late. Jem saw only a shimmering of dust against the fading sun, and then...

Darkness.


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: Here's a shout-out to the guest who reviewed my story last week! Here's hoping you don't have to kill any fairies. Then again, you might. After all, this chapter has a lot of Jem suffering it in it. And pondering. And not being a saint. And then suffering some more. Enjoy.

Jem thanked the angel that the sun was already behind them as he cracked his eyes open. For some reason, sunlight combined with faerie powder gave him a headache.

"We're almost there," Will reassured.

They were in the carriage, with Henry and Gideon both dozing across from them. As Jem looked out the window, he could see the Institute, the gate opening before them. No sooner did he realize it, than it was time for them to alight from their ride.

"The blasted thing was carrying a powerful dose, I'm afraid. And now that you've already been unconscious for so long, sleeping off the secondary effects may be... difficult. If you think you could manage it, I've got sleeping draughts in my-"

"No.

"Besides, it seems to be wearing off, and I'm..."

Burning. Not so much in a painful way, but in a genuine discomfort, almost like an itch, but... liquid somehow. It started in his extremities, low and instant, and then began to spread. Jem froze.

"No. It's not wearing off. It's starting."

"Jem?" Will tensed with him.

There was almost a pins-and-needles sort of sensation as well, and in an instant, Jem no longer trusted his legs to hold him.

"James!"

"It's not that bad. It's really not that bad, I just need a bed."

"Dammit, Jem. I know how this works. It only gets worse."

"It's not that bad." The reassurance began to sound hollow to Jem's own ears. As the burn proceeded to flood his body, Jem felt his ears turn pink as recognition flooded his mind. A year before, he wouldn't have known for sure what was about to befall him. But this particular pour of adrenaline and rush of blood was now oh-so familiar to him. He'd felt similar sensations before, certainly. But this was to an urgent degree that only Tessa had brought out in him before. He knew where it was going. And it was easier to lie and pretend that it was pain than admit the truth. Because the truth was very, very embarrassing.

"Will. Listen to me. All I need is a bed. It will pass. You know these things pass. It's not remotely like one of my... my episodes. I need to wait this out, as you said."

His voice sounded breathless to his own ears.

The world seemed to blur before his eyes for an almost indeterminate amount of time as he felt Thomas-not Thomas, no, Cyril-support him on one side as Will did the other. He could hear Sophie's nervous voice in passing.

Jem sighed in relief as he finally felt the softness of clean sheets beneath him. He snatched a pillow and curled into a ball. He could hear his own pulse in his ears, and could barely make out Will's voice beyond it. He felt as if every hair on his arm was on end.

"You liar. It hurts. It clearly hurts. Angel. I do have sleeping draughts actually. Magical, not chemical, if-"

Jem interrupted, "I can't have them."

It had been instilled in him since childhood by the very Silent Brothers that had first cared for him. He had to avoid sleeping aides-all types. They did not mix with Yin Fen. If anything, they only worsened the already-unfortunate side effects.

And this was side effect enough. He was beginning to feel feverish. He felt blood begin to drain from his ears, diverted lower. Much lower. What blood was left above his waist seemed to flush his cheeks. Jem buried his face in the pillow, even as he curled around it.

"... get Tessa?"

What?

"Do you want me to fetch Tessa, Jem?"

YES... "No?"

He peeked upward for a moment, and saw Will's confused and furrowed brow.

"That wasn't very certain as far as protests go, brother."

Jem was about to reply more firmly when he heard Tessa's voice from behind his parabatai.

"Jem!"

The moment he saw her, he felt all the air eject from his lungs, and each nerve ending electrify.

It was a new dress, low-cut in deep vermillion. He wondered in passing if she had chosen it simply because she liked it, or if it had something to do with the fact that red was his favorite color. Or had he told her that yet? He wasn't sure.

"What's wrong with him?"

Jem felt his mind momentarily return to sobriety from her comment alone. He hated that. He knew she didn't mean it, but he hated being talked over, touched with an open palm on his forehead like that. He hated being treated like an invalid. The fact that that it tended to happen when in was in the midst of actually being an invalid was no help at all.

But he didn't hear Will's reply. No sooner had Tessa touched him with her palm, than her entire hand caressed him, flowing in a single movement that dragged her fingers through his hair, tucking strands behind his ear. He could feel himself leaning into her touch, not unlike Church while he was allowing others to pet him.

Gritting his teeth, he reached up and grabbed her wrist, drawing her near enough to whisper.

"Make them go."

Tessa appeared to be as puzzled as Will.

"I don't-"

He realized Will was staring from over her shoulder. Jem felt impatience rise up inside him like the tide.

"Búyào dǎrǎo wǒ!"

Will blinked at him stupidly for a moment, until the translation came together behind his eyes. With a rather wounded look, he turned about, and headed for the door, dragging Sophie and Cyril behind him.

Jem ducked his head into the pillow again. Why did he do that? He shouldn't have. It wasn't Will's fault, and he shouldn't have been trying to get a private audience with Tessa in his current state as it was. And no doubt Sophie would be the first to tell Charlotte of his behavior, which would bring her running as fast as her swollen feet would carry her.

He felt Tessa rub gentle circles into his shoulders. The sensation bloomed over his back, as if her fingertips were water droplets leaving shuddering ripples all over his skin. She was sitting on the bed now, curled around him, trying to pry answers from him.

_Better her honey than Will's vinegar_, part of him thought.

But he did not want to say anything. He could already envision her flinching away the moment she knew.

_She did not flinch away in your bed_, a more devilish side of him insisted, _and she certainly did not flinch away in hers..._

"Gah."

"Please tell me. James."

Angel, she knew he liked the sound of that. Though it almost seemed unfair to use it now. Almost.

She wore an expression of undiluted curiosity and insistence. Her brow bore that tiny furrow of frustration that appeared whenever she openly wondered what she was, or how the heroine of her novel du jour was going to solve a particular mystery. It was so inherently Tessa that it prompted a weak smile from his lips, along with the best answer he could pull from himself.

"It's... it's an aphrodisiac."

Her mouth hung open for a moment, matched only by the high rise of her eyebrows as she blinked at him.

"A what?"

_Oh, Angel please let her understand. Do not make me explain it._

At once, Jem almost wished he hadn't sent Will away. Will would have some brash yet efficient way of conveying the concept, at least.

But at once he saw Tessa's eyes wander over him, taking in the way he enfolded himself in the privacy of the thick coverlets, and curled himself around something plush, offering himself only the slightest pressure and ensuing relief. He saw the comprehension in her eyes as she bit her lip and blushed, raising her gaze back to meet his own.

But he got only a glance before she ducked her head down, hiding behind loose brown curls. From what he could see, her lips were pressed in a sharp line, and he didn't know what to make of her hiding from him. He didn't know until he saw the corner of her mouth twitch.

"This isn't funny, Tessa."

"Of course not."

"I mean it," but he felt his own lips betraying him with a smile as she finally looked up at him, grinning openly.

And oh, her lips looked so much better when they weren't pressed into a thin line like that. And as she gave a mock sigh, her whole body moved subtly along with her lungs. What began as a glance at the space of skin between her bodice and her angel pendant quickly became a rather open admiration of the contents of said bodice. She pretended to ignore his staring, for which he was grateful.

"I suppose you're right. It especially isn't funny considering that Charlotte has already announced that she's calling the Silent Brothers."

"No!'

As though the situation weren't already humiliating enough to warrant sticking his head into the ground and hiding like the proverbial African ostrich. Jem began to suspect that the faerie drug had some sort of regression property to it, as the whining nature of his own voice surprised him.

"Make her un-call them."

"If you're certain." Would she tease him like this when they were wed?

_Oh, a part of you desperately hopes so_, he admitted to himself. He squeezed his eyes shut as she walked out the door. He faintly remembered a conversation they'd had when she was first learning to use her ability, mimicking Camille's stride in the vampire's skin. Will had accused her of walking like a duck with her feet turned out.

Perhaps she did turn her feet out a bit, but it was far from duck-like. Her hips seemed to follow her feet after the fact, giving her body a subtle yet nimble sort of sway. It was as if her entire manner of perambulating was built around the act of peaking behind curtains and around corners.

_Don't think about her hips_, his pragmatic side insisted. _What's more, don't think about the way they looked in Jessamine's pants_.

...

_Damn._

Jem breathed. And tried to think of Henry's lessons. They actually helped in a rather unwanted sort of way.

_You are not a mundane. You are meant to be comfortable in your own skin. And what's a bit of arousal between your body and yourself? Does it really make such a difference that it is during the middle of the day when everyone has been awake for hours and is wondering about you as opposed to the privacy of the early morning when you've just awoken from an overly pleasant dream?_

_Don't answer that._

He snorted at a passing memory. He had been fourteen when Henry had looked up from his breakfast one day and whispered to him, "It happens. Don't fret about it." He had nearly drowned in indignity at the thought that the strange behavior of his prick that morning was somehow plain on his face for all to see. It had taken him a full five minutes to realize that Charlotte's occasionally obtuse husband had been referring to the fact that he had accidentally scraped a bit of his poached egg off his plate and onto the floor in the thick of his distraction.

It had all been so abstract back then, and having Will for a parabatai had exacerbated the experience for both good and ill.

By the Angel, they had been fourteen. Fourteen, and oh-so curious. In Will's case, fourteen and filled with the need to boast about things clearly never ventured. But Jem had only himself to blame for some of their conversations; it would still be a year before he perfected the art of holding his tongue when it would suit best.

"I fail to see see what's French about it, Will. How do you even invent a kiss?"

"They don't have to invent it, they just have to make it fashionable! Don't you know that harlots set the fashion in France?"

"They clearly influence it in Wales."

"I shan't even dignify that, James."

"You were saying?"

Will's eyes lit up like one of Henry's customized witch lights.

"You slip the tongue in."

"You what?"

"You slip. The tongue. Inside. And then wiggle it around a bit."

It was a contest, and Jem lost. Triumph began to flood Will's face, and Jem felt disgust distort his own.

"Lies."

"Truth! It is currently considered the height of eroticism. Ask any prostitute in the east end."

Jem managed to hold his tongue then, but he already knew that "ask" meant "eavesdrop upon", "any" meant "one", and "truth" meant "half-likely, but I shall believe it because I am Will Herondale and I desire it to be so." Straightening his features, Jem riposted with as dry and disappointing an answer as he could muster.

"I see."

Jem sighed as his mind returned to the present.

_Oh, yes because that's so much better. A present in which one head has the consistency of warm gruel and the other, the consistency of rock. Gān bēi!_

There was no clock in his room, but his own mind supplied a ticking of the seconds, a click not unlike that of his fiancé's necklace.

Time stretched out, dividing itself into two affixed things:

The present, in which he waited...

... and the future in which Tessa returned.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N**: I'm sorry! *ducks and hides*

* * *

The sound of the door opening and closing drew him from the mire of his thoughts. Tessa held her hands behind her back as she closed the door, almost in a mock-prim sort of way.

"Your wishes have been conveyed."

"My wishes?"

He hoped not. The majority of his wishes at the moment were not fit for public conveyance. Tessa's eyes narrowed.

"Your appointment with the silent brothers has been canceled."

_Oh thank the Angel._

Jem sighed. Even with the distraction of faerie-induced boiling in his blood, her level of trust still struck him cleanly. He knew if that if she had been completely forthcoming, and told Charlotte WHY he did not want the brothers to be present, that the head of the institute would have forbidden anyone to visit him apart from possibly Henry. But Tessa had kept his embarrassing secret safe. And what was more, she had come back.

Tessa sat down beside him at the edge of the bed. There were covers between them, and an inch of space. But even the way she had carefully folded her hands in her lap did not stop the pervasive feeling that wracked him, the recollection of Henry teaching him about magnets, and the breathless instant before two attracted pieces gave in, and finally fused.

"You needn't be nervous, you know."

Tessa's words surprised him.

"Oh? And why needn't I be?"

"I am quite safe from your rampaging desire to have your wicked way with me."

It was clear that she had tried so very hard to say it with a straight face and a clear voice, but her facade had cracked at "desire" with a giggle, and by "wicked" she had resorted to a self-deprecating sort of grin.

Jem felt his cheeks and ears begin to burn.

He tried not to let the comment sting, as he knew it was not her intention. But for all she had looked at him, kissed him, and even agreed to marry him, there was still a tiny, albeit growing ever tinier, part of him that doubted. That suspected it had taken her a while to see him as a man quite capable of desire, rather than some overly-polite, invalid friend. And he did desire. Always. Not as he did now-with a mindless and magical surge that left him hard under the layers of linens regardless of the actual direction of his thoughts-but with a carefully considered hope. A wanting of body and soul, for present and future, all wrapped together in a tangle of knowing smiles and kisses for every level of intimacy. It was terrifying to want in such a way, especially with such a precarious future.

"And what, may I ask, has you feeling so entirely secure?"

She tapped at her stomach with her fingertips, leading Jem to raise a brow.

"Every corset I've been stuffed into since my arrival here has left me feeling like I could withstand a siege. I don't know if it's Shadowhunter mandate or British craftsmanship, but as nimble as your fingers are, I doubt you'll get past the first lace without Sophie's hard-won experience to guide you. Last I checked, she wasn't offering lessons."

That... was a valid point. And yet...

"I'll have you know that Will is not the only autodidact at this institute."

"Was that a challenge, Mr. Carstairs?"

"If you doubt my capacity for self-taught corset-removal, you have only to turn around to prove your point, Miss Gray."

She promptly spun around and stood, headed towards the door.

Jem gulped. He knew it. He had taken matters too far, and now she-

She was barricading the door with the chest he kept by his bed.

"I may not be able to explain why your door was blocked, but it may be better than trying to explain anything else."

Her voice was steady, yet her face was a rather deep shade of rose. She met his eyes as she reached her hands behind her back, unfastening the first few buttons of her dress.

He saw his own fears reflected in her gaze. Tessa had to likewise wonder if what they were doing was too much, too fast, too soon, and Jem felt some of his own momentum falter.

"I... we don't have to... that is..."

Two feet was entirely too much distance between them. It was only when she sat down on the bed again that he felt equilibrium return. And whatever dark sense of uncertainty that had arisen a moment before, was soothed the moment she spoke again.

"I know. And I love you for that too."

The words warmed him like Christmas whiskey, and he couldn't help but grin, even as he watched her own gaze turn inward. He was fairly certain she didn't realize when she did it, staring off into a nearby space, lost in thought. He couldn't tell if it was a personal matter, or a literary one. Both brought forth the same expression, though this one was still mixed with a definite blush.

"I don't tell you that enough, do I? But I do. That is, I love you. And I know you love me."

He nodded, feeling his own hair fall into his eyes."

"_Wo ai ni_; I do."

When her hand came up to brush it away, it felt nothing like the times she'd put a palm to his forehead to check for fever. There was no distant concern, only tenderness, and he responded in kind by taking her hand in his own, and kissing that same soft palm.

"_Wo de xin ai. Yo ni tsen hao_."

She took a purposeful breath, as she tilted her head. He watched her eyes stray to the side in concentration. Jem closed his eyes, waiting patiently.

"Life is... good in company?"

"In your company."

"Hmm."

He did not need to open his eyes to know she was smiling.

"And that first phrase? It had something to do with love."

He grinned. The second was too certain to be a question, and it made him feel proud. He opened his eyes. He said it softly, partly because it was harder to say something when one knew one would be understood in full. Partly because he wanted her to lean closer as she did.

"Beloved. It means beloved."

Oh, finally, _finally_ she kissed him. Soft, sweet, and slow. He could still feel her hands in his hair, and it was only by utilizing the utmost of his self-restraint that he kept his hands safely still on his stomach. Other parts of him were not so contained.

_Don't think on it. You are already luckier than you were ever meant to be._

As Tessa pulled away, she smirked, as if by some divine irony she knew his thoughts.

"I may have been nervous, but I wasn't kidding, you know."

And then, with a calmer sense of moment, she turned again.

There were only three buttons of her dress left to unlatch with the corset underneath.

"You might as well get the practice now, else it may become a rather frustrating endeavor on our wedding night."

Jem laughed and pictured it: Tessa waiting with a tapping foot, and himself, trying to helplessly navigate tight strings and golden crinoline. But no sooner did he laugh, than he sobered and sat upright.

Just because it was funny, didn't mean it was incapable of becoming a distinct possibility.

He unhooked the final buttons, and pulled his hands back as Tessa jostled a bit in place.

By the Angel. She hadn't been joking.

A systematic criss-cross of string ran in a curved line down her back, ending at the base of her spine.

"I... I will need to tug at the knot at the bottom in order to give my hands enough space to..."

"Do it."

He heard the firmness in her words, and had the distinct sense that she was bracing herself. It was the only thing that made sense. It was only by yanking at the bow that he could even hope to begin. But it was already so tight, that it was bound to sinch the whole thing tighter, and there was no slack that he could see. As he slipped two fingers through the strings, he place his left hand on her back to steady his efforts.

Something seemed wrong in the back of his mind, and it took him a moment to place it: his left hand was completely still.

"Are you even breathing right now?"

"Yes," But her reply came in a stuttered exhale, and he knew she had been holding her breath a moment before. Jem didn't know if it was due to her nervousness or the nature of the clothing, and found himself rather hesitant to ask.

His inner hedonist gave a shout that he should even find himself in such a situation, locked in his room with the woman he wanted more than life, granted free reign...

_And a great job you're doing with those reigns..._

It wasn't a bow anymore. It was well and truly a knot, and a convoluted one at that. He felt that same inner hedonist begin to pout in disappointment.

"If I didn't already have calluses from my violin, I fear I would have been tempted to give in already."

Tessa looked at him from over her shoulder, with a strangely patient affection.

"From the feel of things over here, you keep pulling at the same part. Try gently pulling at top of the knot, and focus on just getting one end free."

He did, and he felt a bit of hope return. With the bottom knot undone, he pulled back and began to examine the lattice work that was the rest of the corset. Tessa's voice teased him once more:

"Now, you will want to keep this in mind: anything you plan to undo, you must be certain you can re-do. I'm not explaining this to anyone, and I'm not doing it myself. It's part of the rules."

Jem groaned, and fell back into the pillows in defeat.

"I remember you saying that American women dress themselves. How?"

He watched carefully as Tessa's hands reached around to her lower back, carefully tugging at the center laces before cording the rest into a neat (but definitely looser) bow.

"Not all dresses have corsets like this. And not all are tied so tightly as this. You just got to enjoy the best of Sophie's handiwork."

"She was clearly a sailor in another life, a definite master of knots."

Tessa turned around. Her gray eyes were completely alight, and she made a tiny scooting motion with her hand. Jem moved to the side, and felt the bed dip with a small creek as Tessa stretched out beside him on her stomach. She leaned her neck against her arm, and he was momentarily reminded of the way Church might lie about in a rare patch of sunlight.

"Would you be so kind?"

With a mock-formal dip of his head, Jem nodded and propped himself on one elbow, meticulously threading each button on her dress through its respective eyelet. On the final button, he paused.

Half hope, half prayer, he wished with all his might that he would find himself performing such a simple act again in a month's time. And the month after that. And the one after that. Brushing Tessa's hair away from her back, helping her dress, lazily preparing for the outside world. When he was done, he left his hand there, resting at the small of her back, feeling the infinitesimal rise and fall of her lungs beneath cotton and whalebone.

"Do you feel any better?"

He realized that her eyes were on the covers of the bed, specifically directed at a spot that had been significantly more tented a few minutes before, and he blushed all over again.

"Er, yes. The affects of the drug seem to be fading."

She nodded with a blush of her own, huddling closer.

He wished she could stay. For a moment, Jem's whole world was the soft bed, the sound of Tessa's breathing, and that contemplative look in her eyes as she bit her lip.

"Kiss me?"

The words had hardly left her lips before he obliged her. He inhaled as he did. She still smelled of lavender water and the dust of old books; though as her hair tickled his nose, he took in the third scent that he knew only as Tessa's.

As gentle as their mood had been a moment before, neither wished to stop, and so one kiss became two, then three.

And suddenly, things that had seemed so unthinkable before in the midst of adolescence, suddenly became very curious indeed.

'"..."

"..."

"Was that your tongue?"

"Do you mind?"

"...No."

Height of fashion, indeed.

His sleep was dreamless that night, as the hours that followed a faerie drug often were, but the morning was the best kind.

He smiled at the goddess etched into his silver medicine box.

He would require no offering from her that day.


End file.
